


ghosting shades of red

by timelessidyll



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, a minor panic attack, but only the galra get killed, i'm trying to tag triggers as best as i can, in honor of the leaked screenshot, matt is a rebel commander, matt vomits once, mostly him dealing with trauma, there is some depiction of killing and blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelessidyll/pseuds/timelessidyll
Summary: matt runs missions for the resistance, but the wounds they leave behind might not be worth it. by rescuing shiro, he's made to talk it out, and maybe he can recover what he thought he had lost.





	ghosting shades of red

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to tag triggers to the best of my ability, if i missed anything, pelase let me know.

The only thing that Matt registered, really, was his own heavy breathing. It rattled his lungs, pained his throat; every inhale was a battle, every exhale a loss. Almost rhythmically, Galran soldiers fell down like dominos as he shot them, paying hyper attention to his surroundings. The close quarters would have made it difficult to maneuver with his larger weapon, which he was glad he left behind. When they got too close for the gun, Matt shoved it back in his belt and switched to a dagger, jumping at the nearest soldier. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to control the adrenaline coursing through him as he viciously stabbed the blade through a crack in the enemy’s armor, using the limp body to block himself from the gunfire of the other soldiers. If he let the hormone control him, he could very well end up dying in his situation.

After spending a little over seven months with the Resistance, Matt had learned a few different styles of fighting and knew how to use a variety of weapons, although during his initial residency, he preferred not to act on that knowledge. In the beginning, he at least wanted the reassurance that if his life depended on it, he could kill someone; that was why he chose the equivalent of a spear from the armory. The other weapons could kill anyone easily enough, making his blood curdle at the thought of taking a life, and staffs were useless in that they could only serve blunt attacks, never cutting the skin.

But that was before his first mission at the outpost, before he knew how brutal the Resistance had to be in order to survive. Now, he kept his options open. Two daggers were strapped to the outside of his thighs, and a handheld gun was secured to a belt on his waist. The spear remained his main weapon, and the only difference now was that he was more lethal with it than anyone in the force and no longer had any reservations against killing those who got in his way.

The mission that had brought him to this particular fleet was a strange one indeed. It hovered over an inhospitable planet that had been abandoned eons ago by the original population. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but the problem might have been the acid bubbling out of the core of the planet, creating acidic fumes that the natives couldn’t adapt to and that currently singed the edges of the cloak Matt wore. It didn’t seem to affect the pieces of metal on his suit, which Matt was thankful for; the alien metals had odd properties and the chances of random reactions occurring were entirely too high for his comfort. There wasn’t anything on the planet itself that the Galra might want, and that’s what raised suspicions.

One of their spies had reported seeing the Galra leading slaves into the caves entrances that littered the landscape, and so Nireer had sent Matt to figure it out. He didn’t bring anyone along, denying Klaxon’s offer for aid on the assumption that it would be an easy, in and out job. Investigate what was really going on and report back; those were almost always Matt’s orders, and they hardly ever changed, even if he was a commander. His skills had widened, ranging from hacking to combat, and even interrogation if the need arose. He only ever preferred hacking and espionage; it left the least amount of room for death.

He had dropped off on a Galra outpost a few light years away from the planet, where he had boarded a cargo ship heading to his destination. If everything went according to the plan, then he would reboard the cargo ship a few hours from now with the information that he would report on. He slipped on his mask, the black fabric slipping over his face almost like water. It was another odd, alien fabric, and not really of much interest to Matt. He had seen weavers make it before, and there was no more mystery to it. He slipped into the yellow haze and disappeared from sight.

Matt arrived inside the gaseous cave entrance coughing quietly, and the noise echoed in the narrow tunnel. He narrowed his eyes warily as they came to rest on the rows of gouges along the sides of the tunnel. They looked too deep to be claws or nails, but not the size of any sword he had ever seen. A closer look revealed moss and mold growing in the cracks, and he let loose some of the tension in his shoulders. Whatever had caused them wasn’t a threat anymore. Scanning the rest of the tunnel, he found no more immediate threats, so he began the descent down the slight slope.

There was no light in the tunnel, no bioluminescent creatures or plants on this planet to guide his path. He had a few flares on him, but they wouldn’t last him very long and he needed them for emergencies. His breathing remained shallow even as he went further down because of the acidic air around him that seeped through the cracks in the ground and walls. Eventually, he heard sounds other than the tapping of his feet and the gusts of air from his breaths. The noise of metal clashing against rocks reached him first, and then he heard heavy carts being rolled around. Last of all were the grunts of the people picking away at the rocks that he had yet to see. The tunnel stretched onwards in front of him, but by feeling the walls, he knew there would be a bend soon enough, and there was a muted light coming from his left. He almost didn’t see it, and Matt made a mental note to adjust his contacts’ prescription power.

He slowed his pace and peered carefully around the edges of the bend, taking in the moving shapes silhouetted against the paleness of the floating orbs. It surprisingly wasn’t purple, but the sickly yellow light almost seemed worse. The slaves they had brought to carry out the work were not necessarily large, but they weren’t as small as Matt himself. ‘Just enough muscle to make it through a day of labor without collapsing,’ he thought bitterly, then berated himself. He had to stay focused on what was in front of him.

When he finally looked at the walls, Matt nearly fell over himself in shock. They were iridescent, reflecting colors that didn’t even make sense to his corneas. All he saw were waves of white washing over the stones, like the sun turning the ocean into a glimmering canvas. His gaze got pulled in, like those hypnosis tricks back on Earth, but a sharp movement at the edges of his vision jerked Matt’s head over to look at it. A Galran soldier stood above one of the slaves, threatening it with a thick rope of an odd greenish color. Matt wasn’t sure what the slave had done, if it had even done anything wrong, but he still felt anger rise in his stomach at the sight. The slave cowered its head and it must have appeased the Galra, because it lowered its hand menacingly and walked away. The slave slowly stood up and tripped on its feet before being steadied by another slave. They turned back toward the wall, picked up their hammers, and continued smashing the wall.

Matt watched them for a moment before turning back in the direction of the entrance. Now wasn’t the time for him to lose his temper; whatever fighting force they sent to attack this place would be able to free the slaves. He needed to figure out what the rocks they were mining were for. He fumbled his way back through the darkness before reaching the weak, filtered light of the planet’s atmosphere. He scanned the blurry landscape for any sort of shelter he might have missed earlier that the Galra soldiers could have been stationed in, but dismissed the thought. The Galra were all about efficiency; they didn’t bother building permanent settlements that would require to be taken in two weeks time. If he wanted to find anything, he would need to look for a ship.

He slipped a small, black rectangle out of the pouch on his belt, flipping it open to reveal a sort of tracker for Galran energy. His time in space had led him to discover the idea of quintessence, and after a bit of experimenting with various different species, he found that each type of alien had a different energy that got emitted. He used a piece of equipment that acted much like a radar to hone in on the energy of the Galra, and that was what made the tracker work. A few blinking red dots lay behind him, back in the caves he had just exited, and many more clustered to the right of the cave, in the opposite direction of the hangar where the plane had landed. Matt checked the timer he carried with him to see the numbers 43:57 stare back at him as the seconds ticked from 57 to 56 and so on. He groaned in frustration and pulled his mask back over his face before trudging towards the group of Galra the tracker said existed; it looked like he wouldn’t be using the cargo ship to make it off of the planet.

After about twenty minutes had passed by, Matt finally saw the outline of a carrier ship on the horizon. The distinguishable purple lights of the smaller ship glowed darkly, as if dampened by the haze around it. Matt picked up his pace and made it in another five minutes. At first glance, he didn’t see any opening to the ship, so he circled around it, looking intently for any way he could get in. He got lucky this time; a vent was built on the side of the ship, right next to one of the legs that the ship used to land. His critical gaze examined the path he had to take to get up to the vent and decided he could do it. There was a ledge on the leg that might have been caused by battle that he could grab, and it was long enough that he could pull himself up to stand on it. After that, he would need to jump for the vent, but by judging the distance, he supposed it was only two and a half feet straight up from his own height; an easy enough jump if you were trained for it.

He sprung upwards lightly, using his foot to push himself a few inches further in order to reach the ledge comfortably. He gripped the jagged edges of the ledge, wincing at the pain in his hands and hoping that they didn’t bleed before pulling himself up. Matt took a moment to collect himself before examining the vent more closely. A scowl overcame his face when he realized the vent was sealed more tightly than he expected. There was a spike of metal jutting out from about ten feet further up, just in the range of his makeshift grappling hook. He took it off of his belt and swung it with a six foot slack from where his hand gripped it, letting it gain momentum before letting it go and watching it sail upwards. The hook clamped down on the spike and Matt tugged on the rope tentatively to see if it was secure. When the hook remained where it was, Matt took a deep breath and began to climb up the rope. It dug into his fingers, and each time he removed them to reach higher, a blot of dark red was left behind.

Suddenly, Matt felt light-headed, and he knew it had nothing to do with the atmosphere because his mask was still in place. His mouth felt clammy, and his head was spinning. Trying to keep from falling, Matt curled around the rope, bending his legs to press closer to the side of the ship. The dizzy spell lasted about ten minutes, in which he could only run through the faces of those he had killed and those he had watched die. The Galra soldiers’ faces blurred together; he never saw anything other than their visors, but it still sickened him how easily they had been ended. ‘By him,’ was the ignored thought. Aliens who he had failed to save looked up at him in distress as the darkness covered them and he choked down a sob. Slowly, the sensation faded, and Matt was back in the stifling planet he had come to for espionage. His grip was slackening and he jerked downwards once quickly before his eyes snapped open and his brain processed what was happening. He closed his fists more tightly, stopping his fall, and he let himself settle before he started the climb again.

At the vent, Matt fumbled with his daggers while trying to lever the vent open, and he almost dropped them twice. He slipped inside, leaving the grappling hook where it was for when he would come back. The ventilation system of the carrier ship was simple, but Matt still found himself in more than one dead end because of his scattered mind. Eventually, he was in a room that held the archives of the ship’s orders. He only vaguely connected the dots that this is where they would hold the order of why this ship was on the planet, and giving up any form of secrecy, Matt kicked the vent out of place. It clattered to the ground, and he jumped out, rolling when he hit the ground to lessen the impact on his legs. He shot up and quickly scrambled the coding of the security on the computer holding the information he needed.

A rough estimation of how much time he had was probably three minutes, give or take two minutes depending on what the patrols where. He searched hastily for the planet’s name in the recent archives, and his eyes landed on an order stating for the commander of whatever fleet this carrier was a part of to send slaves into the caves. Another scan of nearby documents told him nothing else, so he stabbed a USB drive he has created himself for Galran ports into the opening and waited anxiously for the download to complete. Matt turned around and pulled out his gun when he heard the thumping of the Galra soldiers, knowing it was a matter of time before they broke through the door.

The door got shot open from the outside, and after the initial attack with his gun, the dagger took care of the rest. With all of his focus on not being killed by the fifteen soldiers who had come after him, Matt hadn’t heard the telltale beep of a completed download come from the computer. He hadn’t heard it when he had collapsed afterwards, the dark red blood on his hands shoving him into another spiraling panic attack. He didn’t know how long he had kneeled on the ground for, but when Matt came back to his senses, feeling even more unsteady than he had after the one before, the USB drive was green and the Galran soldiers were officially dead. He forced himself to stand up and take the drive out of the port, trying to avoid looking at the bodies as much as he could. There wasn’t a way for him to get back up to the vent in his current state, but Matt knew he needed to get up there; it was his only method of escape. 

Deep in thought, he let his eyes wander as he walked precariously around the room. That was his first mistake. The second mistake was when he accidently kicked a head on the ground and looked down to see the visor of a soldier flip upwards. Matt didn’t know much about Galra aging, but he knew that the face he saw was young for its species. Bile rose in his stomach, and he turned away quickly and stumbled into a corner to empty his meager breakfast.

Trying to bring his attention away from the sight of the uncovered face of the Galra soldier, Matt began to drag bodies towards the vent, piling them on top of each other to form a sort of ladder. No one else had come running at the sound, so Matt assumed dimly that these were the only soldiers on board. That was good for him, because it took him far longer than it should have to arrange the bodies and climb back into the vent with his gear and valuable USB drive. Despite his efforts, the face kept flashing through his mind.

The rest of his memories during that time were indistinct, as if he hadn’t really been there and instead was living it through someone else’s eyes. The planet had been dark when he got out, that much Matt could remember, but the time in between leaving the empty carrier and entering the building where the Resistance was situated was non existent. He only knew that it had happened; no details came to mind. Killing the Galra had become more traumatizing after that mission.

Two months later, Matt sat curled up on his ragtag metal bed, squeezing his hands tightly after a particularly harsh battle against the Galra for control of a planet. They had won, but it was a brief victory; their small numbers made it difficult for them to keep the Galra away from planets they had already taken back and even harder to take new planets. They couldn’t afford weakness right now, but Matt couldn’t help but feel so frail. All he was doing was sitting helplessly on his bed, but he was shaking enough as if he had run ten miles in as many minutes. Matt refused to lift his head from where it rested on his knees to look at his hands. The blood stains that he had scrubbed off so roughly from his hands were no longer there, bright pink skin left in its absence, but the sensation didn’t leave. He could still feel it dripping down his fingers, into his gloves, and when he tried to peek at his hands, all he saw was red.

He couldn’t help but think about how the Galra were still conscious creatures as well. They had their own thoughts, ideals, wants, memories. Who was he to take all that away from them in a single moment? What right did he have to take their lives? His nails dug into the palm of his hand, forcing Matt to relax, but he quickly clenched them again. It was a matter of life or death, he reminded himself. If he didn’t kill them, then they would kill him; it was the simple truth of fighting the Galra. The clock chimed three times, signaling Matt had weapons training, but he couldn’t move his body to get up.

A week passed before another mission arrived. This time, Matt was meant to go in alone to free an important slave. His prevailing officer didn’t fill him in on the details, but the energy with which they delivered the information about the ship, he knew that this could have been what they needed to turn the tide. Matt gladly accepted the mission. A ship was hijacked for their purposes, because even if Matt was going alone into the heart of the Galra prison, he would need back up either once he got out or once he ran into trouble. He hoped it would only be for the former.

The prison didn’t glow as much as the normal ships did. Everything was far more dull, grays and blacks creating a drab and gloomy atmosphere. It made Matt shudder to imagine the psychological trauma of being stuck in here for too long. He was reminded of a certain interrogation method that was thought to be credited to the Chinese where the victim was strapped to a chair and forced to watch as slowly, ever so slowly, water from a bowl dripped incessantly on their forehead. It was said to drive them insane from the repeated action.

The halls were far narrower as well, creating a confined space that made Matt want to scream and run to find the end. That was probably the point of the architecture anyways. He slipped through hall after hall, finally finding two guards standing next to a cell door that was tightly locked by both a mechanical and electronic lock. Matt grimaced as he ran through the strategies in his head to figure out how he could get rid of the guards without letting them get off a shot. He was just behind a corner to the left of the guard closest to him, and if he could get to him before he was spotted, then it would be easy to take him out with his spear. Still, he let his hand hover over his gun in precaution even while he pulled his spear out from its holder and began to creep forward.

He should've known there was no way the Galra were that stupid. The moment he slid into their sights, standing out from the wall in his orange and blue livery, they zeroed in on him and swung their own guns towards him. Matt exhaled harshly as he threw himself to the side to avoid the initial shots, dropping his spear in favor of removing his own gun from its holster and shooting back. The only flaw the Galra guards had was that they never moved from their stance, making them easy targets. They were lucky that Matt had never been an especially good shot, but he was good enough to hit the general area of vital areas. They dropped when he shot their legs, and then he knocked them out with a few sharp jabs from his spear towards their throat and chest.

Ignoring the fallen soldiers, Matt took a look at the mechanical lock on the cell. It seemed like he would need a key for it, but a quick glance at the soldiers told him that they didn’t have it. It would take too long to find the Galra who had it, and Matt had to make it out with the prisoner in one piece. He exhaled again in frustration, looking around for some metal that he could use to pick the lock. It had been a long time since he had lasted tried to do this particular skill, but he thought he could remember enough to at least take care of the mechanical lock; if he could locate something to substitute as tools.

After a minute of searching, nothing came up. None of the metals on the guards were thin enough, and the hallways stretched empty in either direction. Matt punched the wall lightly in anger, cursing himself for not thinking ahead to potential obstacles like this. He turned around and snatched the Galra gun from the hands of one of the soldiers and aimed it at the pick before pausing. Using the gun now would alert other soldiers to his presence, so it would be smarter to disable the electronic lock first.

Matt plugged his USB into a small port, letting the virus inside download into the system. The device flashed green, signaling it was done with the download, and Matt pulled up the screen with the lock code. He waited a few seconds while the virus ate through the defenses surrounding the lock coding before the screen blinked out, stating that the lock had been removed. He picked up the gun again and shot it into the mechanical lock with no hesitation. The hole for the key let out thin, black smoke, and Matt didn’t bother pausing to let it air out, going straight for the handle to pull the cell door open. A blaring alarm was heard throughout the ship at that moment, and he knew a Glara technician and discovered the breach.

‘I have two minutes to get myself and the prisoner out bef-,’ Matt’s train of thoughts cut off at the same time his heart stopped beating. In the back of the cell, slumped against the ground with an equally stunned expression, was the one man Matt was certain he would never see again. His brain shut down with the knowledge of who was in front of him, and he could only stare dumbfoundedly as the prisoner shot up to his feet and bounded across the distance between them to pull Matt into his arms.

“Matt,” came a whispered voice, hoarse and cracking from dehydration; his brain robotically supplied the reasoning to keep him sane. His vision swam, dunking in and out of consciousness while he struggled to come to terms with what he had seen. Because the person hugging him right now could be none other than Takashi Shirogane, pilot of the Kerberos Mission, one of the three person crew who had been captured by the Galra, and who Matt had thought to be dead ever since the fight he never came back from. He had lived the past year thinking that the love of his life was gone, never to return, and the only way he had ever coped with that fact was by throwing himself into every single training session and mission he had time for.

He became vaguely aware that Shiro had stepped back and was shaking him lightly, concern lacing his voice, and then he registered the alarms again, and his internal clock raced to calculate how much time he had left. Snapping back to his reality, Matt harshly pushed off Shiro’s hands and ignored the hurt that settled on his face and forcing his bewildered expression into something colder and more tactical. He looked him over, assessing any potential damages gained from captivity that would hinder his movement, and his eyes settled abruptly on the metal right arm that Shiro had gotten. His gaze lingered on it for a moment before moving on. Armor was entirely intact, but he didn’t have a weapon, he had wasted at least a minute in his unresponsive state and another thirty seconds on checking over the prisoner, which meant he had thirty more seconds to get them both out. A deliberate exhale made its way out of his lungs, and Matt turned sharply, bending to pick up his spear while he made his way to the control panel.

“We have about thirty seconds to get out of here before my allies come and try to bust us out on their own, and as much as I trust them, I would rather not risk any casualties. Do you have a weapon you can use?” Matt’s fingers flew across the panel, reprogramming as many doors as he could to remain closed and create obstacles for the Galra.

“I’ve only ever used my hand, so yes, I have a weapon. I need my helmet, though. They took it, although I believe they would have taken it to the armory. The soldiers aren’t aware of the importance of my helmet, so they wouldn’t waste the commander's time.” His cutting tone was similar to the one Matt had just used, and he swallowed at the sudden pain he felt in his heart at hearing it directed towards him. This dance, acting as if the other meant nothing, putting up a front of being professional, was hurting him more than he expected it to. He thought that all of the anguish he had felt in the first months had settled, but knowing that Shiro was behind him made it all bubble up again. Matt paused in his typing.

“Takashi, I-” What was there for him to say? He couldn’t back out now, not when he’d just called Shiro by his first name. Shiro hadn’t missed it either, if the strangled sound he made at hearing his name was any indicator. “I can’t think about this right now. I’m sorry, but I thought…,” he trailed off for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, “I thought for so long that you were dead. I created an entire new version myself around that fact. I thought I was on my own, because Dad got taken away soon after you never came back, and then I was alone for the first time since we got captured. And then I found you in a holding cell where I thought I would find some no name prisoner, but instead it’s you, and you’re a Paladin, the Black Paladin, the leader,” how much time was he wasting right now, he thought privately, “So just...give me some time, okay? I need to process this. I need to figure out what I’m going to do from here. Can we just make it through this rescue?” It takes some time for Shiro to respond, and Matt anxiously counts down the seconds they have left on the hand that picked up his spear.

“Alright.” Matt nearly sobs in relief at finally hearing an answer. He doesn’t even bother to wait for any addition to the statement before whirling around and darting down the corridor he came through, throwing commands behind him to where Shiro was trailing.

“We need to make it to the docks, my allies have a ship there that we can use to get out. I know I saw the armory on my way here, so we can grab your helmet quick.” The sentence had barely left his mouth before they ran into their first set of guards, and the next words out of Matt’s mouth were less than pleasant. He ducked under the first soldier’s gun, turning his back towards the soldier and twirling behind it, stabbing it through a crack in the back armor. He spun around again to face the other two, but he found his efforts unneeded. Shiro had already taken care of them, not a trace of emotion on his face. It chilled Matt to think of how much the two of them had changed without each other.

“This way. We need to turn right at the end of this hall, and the armory will be to the right. Grab your helmet as we go past; I’m going to cover you from the entrance while you look. Make it fast, they don’t like to make it easy for me with my weapon disadvantage.” Shiro nodded curtly and they broke into a run once again. Before long, they were in front of the armory doors, and Matt once again reprogrammed the door to open for them. The moment it was open, Shiro went inside and Matt positioned himself in front of the door, prepared for attacks from either direction.

The alarms continued to blare, apparently to continually alert the Galra that the threat had not yet been subdued. The lights gained a redder hue the longer the alarm sounded, and now they had turned to dark magenta. Matt narrowed his eyes to accommodate the new lighting. His laser focus on the hall meant that he didn’t hear Shiro when he returned , and when he got tapped on the shoulder, his instinctive reaction was to attack whoever was behind him. He swung his spear towards his assailant’s head before realizing who it was, and when he did notice that it was Shiro, he had already brought up his arm to block it. Matt’s eyes widened when he saw his hand glowing purple, and he swallowed uncomfortably in shock before lowering his weapon as quickly as he had raised it.

“Sorry, you surprised me.” He referred to so many more more things than just this one instance, but Shiro must not have understood the underlying meaning.

“No, I shouldn’t have been so quiet when I came near you. I found my helmet, so we can get out now.” Matt nodded in silence and turned away slowly, heading towards the docks. He felt like he was moving through honey and forced his legs to move faster, but they refused to cooperate, and his clock was still ticking, negative 4:38 minutes had gone by, what if his crew came for him, what if they got themselves killed, how was he going to handle that? He hadn’t realized that he’d stopped walking altogether until Shiro was shaking him and asking him what was wrong. The words weren’t making it through his brain, but he inferred that’s what he was saying, and he pulled himself together enough to give a flippant, “Fine,” in response and continue towards the docks faster than before. Shiro didn’t argue or question it, instead only following him, and Matt felt relieved that he didn’t need to explain himself.

The next resistance they met on their way out was at the dock doors. Soldiers stood guard in front of it, preventing them from going through, and the two of them prepared to fight, Matt with his spear and Shiro with his odd, glowing hand. They hadn’t even settled into a position when the soldiers began shooting at them. Matt cursed out loud and threw himself forward, darting in and out of the paths of stray bullets, using his spear as an extremely narrow shield when one of the shots came at him. He wasn’t able to block one and it hit his left shoulder, rendering it immobile and making him hiss in stifled pain. He took the spear in his right hand and flipped open a small panel on the handle in order to press a dark gray button he had installed there when he first created the spear. The tip broke into four pieces to allow the mechanism inside to start. It didn’t begin immediately, instead taking a moment to scan the electrical charge of the surrounding air, but as soon as the data was processed, the mechanism whirred to life, creating an electrical charge opposite to the surrounding air and producing thin electrical vines that crackled along the edges of the spear. He took the spear and stabbed the nearest soldier in the neck, whipping it around him to fry the machinery of the one of the soldier’s guns.

Another soldier went down, and when Matt tensed up and looked to find no other Galra waiting for him, he remembered that Shiro was beside him, and obviously he took care of the ones that Matt didn’t get. It had been a while since he had taken a partner on these missions, and he’d forgotten about the partnership that had required. He was forgetting a lot these days, and he had a sinking suspicion as to why. Without a word, he opened the panel to the side of the door opened it, motioning for Shiro to step through in front of him.

“Come on, the ship is all the way in the back. We didn’t want to attract attention, and it’s also so that it takes less time for us to get out, since the exit is that way.” Shiro grunted in affirmation, and they headed towards the ship. Matt sighed in relief when he saw the crew waiting anxiously with the ship door down.

“Commander! You’re alright!” Kiia cried. The others broke out into varying states of pleased expressions, and Matt gave them an assuring smile.

“Sorry, I got held up a bit. And you’ll be surprised to find that the prisoner we had to rescue is none other than the Black Paladin.” Shock rippled through his crew at the declaration, but they for themselves it was true when Shiro stepped up beside Matt.

“I’m Shiro, pilot of the Black Lion. Thank you for rescuing me.” Matt almost expected Shiro to bow with his formal thanks, but he was surprised to find him standing rigid in front of his crew, as if preparing for an examination. Taolya spoke up first.

“It is our honor Black Paladin. But we must hurry if we wish to make it out safely, Commander. The lights are almost entirely red.” Matt looked up to find almost blood red lights above him, and his breath hitched for a moment.

“Yes. Taolya, prepare the engine. Kiia, I want you piloting us out of here the moment the engine is running. Yuva, Yuna, I need you at navigation. Let’s go, we don’t have time to waste.” They all climbed up the ramp and settled into their spots on the ship while Matt led Shiro to a spare room inside.

“It’s not the best place to be, considering it’s not our own ship, but I think you should be able to wait it out. I assembled a hasty bed for you, and-” Matt got cut off when Shiro spoke over him.

“We need to talk.” Matt stood still, gnawing at his dried and chapped lips.

“We do Shiro, but now is definitely not the time. When we get back to base, and you’ve contacted your team and there’s a plan of action in place, then we’ll have time. Then we can talk. Please, Takashi.” He shouldered Shiro out of the way with his head down, but was stopped with a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looked to see Shiro with a resigned face and he suddenly felt guilty for what he said.

“Alright, Matt. But please don’t push me away. Don’t pretend I don’t exist.” Matt’s heart cracked at the pleading tone those words delivered. He couldn’t make himself say no, even if he really wanted to, which he didn’t.

“...Okay, Shiro.” He briskly left, trying not to drown in all of his overflowing emotions.

They made it back to the base in one piece, surprisingly. The cloaking device Matt had created for the ship worked wonders, and they left the Galra ship undetected. When they landed on the planet the base was stationed at, an entire procession was already gathered to welcome their return and success. Matt took one look outside and gave a pointed look to Kiia, who knew exactly what to do. She took control of the ship once more and flew them away from the landing pad, much to the confusion of Shiro and everyone on the ground. Instead, she took them to a small cave on the side of a mountain, settling the ship down about 60 feet below the entrance in a clearing. None of the crew explained anything to Shiro, who could only follow them as he was led through a series of passages in the cave.

They emerged in the actual base, and Matt quietly ushered Shiro to his living quarters while he made arrangements with the rest of the crew on what to do if someone came looking for them. When the door shut and they were alone, an awkward silence came over them. Neither knew what to say, and it was Matt who finally decided that he needed to put some effort into making things okay between them.

“When you didn’t come back, I thought about how it was inevitable you would die. I know that’s harsh, but back then, in the face of all the unknown, these aliens had captured us and I knew with certain dread we would die. I just didn’t know when. The fifth day passed and no one had heard or seen you, and I forced myself to move on from it. Dad got taken three days after that. I don’t know what happened to him, because none of the archives I looked at had anything.” Matt swallowed to give himself time to think before continuing.

“I went through the motions of being a slave wondering when I would be next. I never expected to be rescued by the Resistance. I never thought I would become who I am now. Back then, I would never be able to kill someone. Now, I do it like it’s my nature. I’m definitely not the same Matthew Holt who left Earth on the Kerberos Mission, naive for the most part and optimistic of who knows what. But I don’t think I like who I am now, because now the only time I cry is when I think of the faces of those who I couldn’t save. And isn’t that ironic? You would think I would mourn for those who died at my hands, beings whose lives I could have chosen to spare, but I don’t. I couldn’t care less about the Galra, but faceless soldiers still haunt me.” A humorless chuckle escaped Matt, and while it wasn’t dark, he still felt the numbness creeping in. He looked at Shiro for the first time since they entered the room. “So what happened to you?” Shiro didn’t answer at first, staring at a point far behind Matt while he digested the story he had been told.

“Well, you know about the Arena. You know I was the Champion.” Matt nodded, signaling him to go on. “They took me to the druids after that. Haggar personally modified me. They took out my arm and replaced it with a Galra robotic, and I suppose that’s explanation enough for that. I don’t have many memories from before my crash back to Earth, but I know that I hurt you, and I know I killed too many.” Shiro’s explanation was choppy, but Matt cut him some slack when he revealed his amnesia. “I guess that’s where my trauma comes from, and it’s made me make some rash decisions. And almost immediately after that I became the leader of a group of teenagers and I need to save the universe. It was a lot to handle, still is, and I’m not used to it.” Shiro stopped after that, and Matt guessed at what came after. He knew him for long enough at the Garrison to know that when Shiro was stressed, his insomnia worsened, and being faced with high expectations made his anxiety rise.

The silence stretched while the two of them patched up holes in each other’s experiences with what they knew about the other. Matt sighed and stood up, adjusting his belt around his waist uncomfortably.

“You should contact your team. Let them know that you’ve been saved.” He pursed his lips when Shiro looked ready to protest. “It’ll get awkward if we talk anymore about this, Shiro. Whatever we were before the mission, we either start over from scratch or we forget it ever happened. Trying to fix things at this point won’t work because we’ve changed too much to fall into our old dynamic. And with the amount of stress you’re under, it’s not fair to add my well-being to that.” Shiro paused to think before starting over.

“I won’t forget what I felt for you, Matt. I’ll wait as long as I have to.” The absolute determination delivered with that statement made Matt shiver, and he licked his lips nervously.

“Let’s hope that you hold to that, Takashi.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be like 1k max because i wanted to write something simple in honor of rebel matt, but it got out of hand and now here we are. i hope you guys enjoyed this!


End file.
